Falling
by Reading Redhead
Summary: [Trade Pact Universe - Julie E. Czerneda] What did Sira sleep through on the way down to Acranam in that escape pod with Morgan? A fuzzy fic involving Morgan realizing just how much he feels for Sira.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the things I'm writing about—all of this stuff is Julie E. Czerneda's and I'm just playing around with it. Though I really, really wish that I did own at least a couple of the characters…okay, so I wish I owned all of it. But I don't, so tough luck for me.

A/N: I'd been working this idea over in my head for a while when suddenly last night at 10:30, it decided it was time for it to be written. The following story is supposed to take place while Sira's asleep on the escape pod that's taking her and Morgan down to Acranam. I saw the convenient lapse in storytelling on page 219 of my copy of _A Thousand Words for Stranger_, and saw my opportunity to write this. Be forewarned, spoilers probably abound if you haven't read to page 219, and if you haven't read at least that far in the series you won't understand it in the least.

Falling

Satisfied with the final adjustments to the escape pod, Morgan leaned back down within the tightly enclosed space and began to strap himself in, careful not to jostle the sleeping woman beside him. He didn't need to be so cautious; with Sira's consent, he'd used his telepathic powers to induce her mind into a deep sleep. For the time being, at least, nothing short of an explosion would wake her up.

_An explosion,_ Morgan thought wryly, _or the touch of another mind upon her own._ It had been satisfying, if oddly so, to have the company of another telepath, one capable enough to block unintended sendings, leaving Morgan with peace and quiet behind minimal mental shielding. He'd secluded himself to space, and his life as a lonely Trader, partially in order to avoid the insistent press of other, less trained minds against his own. Granted, it was also a life he had chosen, one full of intrigue and adventure, and he wouldn't give it up for the world.

But it had been nice, having someone else with him on the _Fox_ for a change. Morgan finished strapping himself down and pondered this thought. Part of him denied it—Sira was more of a hindrance than a help on a ship that had run on a one-man crew for so long—but the core of him _couldn't_ deny it. If Sira was not necessary on the _Fox_ as crew, she was more than useful as another person, one of the few he felt safe around.

Strange, that he would admit this to himself. He had never allowed himself to come close to people, not since his disastrous encounter with Ren Symon as a young man. The only people he trusted in the known universe were resting within the _Torquad_'s escape pods, waiting for them to launch. Huido, his Carasian blood brother, in the other pod. Morgan himself.

And Sira, tightly strapped to the side of this escape pod only inches from him, still in a deep and apparently calm sleep. How quickly he had come to respect her. How short a time it had taken for her to earn his trust. Though he had taken her on at Auord as a favor to Barac—a favor that he hadn't been paid _nearly_ enough for—he had kept her on as Hindmost and chit for reasons that defied monetary gain.

Certainly, Morgan thought, it had something to do with her spirit. Whatever had been done to her mind, whatever had been covered up or removed, they hadn't managed to take her adaptability, resourcefulness, or substantial courage from her. She had brought a brightness to the _Silver Fox_, and to his life, one that had both unnerved and pleased him. It was the same brightness that she appeared as to his other sense: a tangle of light and power, dangerous to others but to him oddly benevolent. This was the glow he was bathed in whenever they spoke mind to mind. He sighed, looking at her sleeping form. Sira Morgan was someone special.

_Sira__ di Sarc, now,_ he reminded himself uncomfortably. _Not really a Morgan._ He had given her his surname that confusing day when she'd finally told him the truth about her—at least, what she had known of it at the time. Then, it had seemed the most sensible thing to do; no one would suspect another Morgan on the _Fox_ unless they knew him personally. Later, when he'd introduced Sira to Huido and the friendly Carasian had misunderstood, Morgan had liked it even more that she had adopted his lat name as her own. He'd liked the idea enough to purposefully mislead his oldest friend into believing something that was not.

Something that could never be, Morgan knew. He was Human; Sira, though she appeared not to know it, was Clan. The Clan had a reputation or being pathetically xenophobic, especially disliking Humans, though Morgan had never ascertained for what reason. Even Barac, his most reliable Clan acquaintance and First Scout for the Clan, whose _job_ it was to deal with alien species, was uncomfortable in Morgan's presence. Morgan suspected that might also be due to his being a telepath with strong natural shielding, someone Barac could not easily read, but there was the lingering doubt that it was simply because he was Human.

What would Sira think of him, when she regained her past and the Clan prejudices that would undoubtedly come with it? Would she be disgusted by his existence? Morgan hoped beyond hope that this would not be the case, because he knew that he would help her regain her memories no matter the personal cost to him. She was a person who deserved to be whole again. Despite his conviction, he had to admit that it was likely she would not be the same person after the memory block was lifted. The Sira he knew was not capable of prejudice, but the Sira he didn't know could take her over.

The pod jettisoned at that moment, and Morgan experienced a brief disorientation as gravity shifted and the pod began its acceleration towards the planet Acranam. The resulting push slid him towards Sira until he lay with his side against hers. Just days earlier, this was a physical contact he would have shied away from, but now he wouldn't have moved further from her even if he'd had a choice in the matter. Though it was a slight discomfort to be this close to her, it was a discomfort he welcomed, even craved.

He spared a brief glance at Sira's still-sleeping form. Even asleep, she was beautiful. Not in any conventional sense of the term—her hair was wispy and mouse-brown, her body adult sized but lacking the requisite curves so that she looked more like an overgrown child than anything else—but Morgan had long ago learned to look past physical appearance and judge a person's character.

Looking at Sira in this manner, her beauty was undeniable. Her gorgeous gray eyes were now covered by delicate lids, but Morgan knew them well enough that he could have reconstructed their depth with his own eyes shut. They were wise eyes, deep with more knowledge than a person in Sira's condition had a right to. But they could also be simultaneously happy, lighting up her face in tandem with her smile. Her small lips were expressive, as was the voice that issued from between them. The sound of her saying his name could get his attention the way no other sound could. She'd only ever called him "Morgan" or "Captain," except for that one time on Ret 7 when he'd been on the brink of death and she'd used his first name out of desperation. That singular instance had been enough to make him long for her to address him by some more familiar name. To hear his first name spoken by her again would be a dream come to life.

And though her body was lanky and unformed, it surrounded a soul with more natural beauty than any of the plants or animals he'd painted on the walls of his cabin on the _Fox_. He'd stolen a hug from her when he'd come to rescue her from Roraqk's clutches, on the pretense of having her help him remain upright. Despite her awkward appearance, she had been full of an inner strength that had sustained him, body and soul. Later, when he'd had to explain to her about Yihtor's possession of the unfortunate Gistries, he'd been allowed to hold her again, to comfort her as she cried. Her nearness had been more of a comfort to him than she ever could have known. To have her pressed tight to him in a more intimate embrace…well, he didn't think he'd notice her leanness one bit.

Not that any of his feelings for her mattered. She was still Clan, and he was still only Human. He would protect her with his life until she could regain her memory, and then he would leave when she told him to, as she undoubtedly would. Morgan sighed, forcing himself not to think of Sira, failing miserably. Sometimes when he was with her, he could almost believe that he was falling in love. The rest of the time, he was just falling.

And through it all, she slept, seemingly oblivious to his growing feelings towards her, innocently naïve in a way that broke his heart. "Sweet dreams, my love," he dared to whisper softly, his voice breaking over the words. A fleeting dream was all that they could ever be.


End file.
